


The Bounty Hunter’s Code

by X_Gon_Give_It



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Mando, Baby Yoda is sad, Din is captured by Moff Gideon, Mando!whump, Other, This it the way, alternate ending to episode 8, boi wants his dad back, hurt!Din, hurt!Mando, torture will probably be involved, would if they HAD left Mando
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/X_Gon_Give_It/pseuds/X_Gon_Give_It
Summary: "He's not a prize," Din said, "he's a child."The Moff turned more directly, looking down his nose, with the slightest curve of his lips. He leaned down a little way, staring at his own reflection in Din's visor, "He will be mine."<><><><><><><>Alternate ending to episode 8! What if IG-11 HADN'T stayed with Mando? Would if Mando was instead captured by Moff Gideon?I'm here to explore that scenario.
Relationships: Din Djarin and Cara Dune, Din Djarin and the Child, Mando and the Child
Comments: 61
Kudos: 237





	1. The Promise

They were running out of time.

With every moment they were sitting there, the more their chance of escape shrank into nothing more than a pin-prick. Din could feel it slipping out of their hands like sand, dribbling through their fingers into nothing but meaningless dust, counting down the inevitability. Sooner or later, they were going to find themselves on the end of another assault.

They wouldn't be able to survive another head-on fight like that. Hell, they'd barely made it alive out of the first one - some more so than others, he'd admit.

Din could feel the intense heat of the fire on the bare skin of his fingers, feel it seeping into the folds of his clothes, past his armor and through his helmet. The environmental filter, designed to filter out contaminates, was doing its job, yet he found it was stifling and still hard to breathe. He could only imagine how much harder it was for the rest of his group. More the Child, than anyone. Greef was a veteran of the Guild and Cara was an ex-shocktrooper, they've handled their fair share of disasters, and IG-11 was impervious to the flames and fumes.

The Child, on the other hand, wasn't. He was just a baby, and Din knew how unhealthy it was for the lungs of a child to breath in smoke. He remembered the raw tenderness of his own throat when he'd been a child, after he'd been taken from the battle on his home planet and rescued by the Mandalorian covert, and it was something he didn't wish for the baby to go through either.

They needed to get out of there.

Near the smoldering wall, IG-11 stood, the fallen vent cover gone and replaced with a hole, still glowing red and steaming. Despite the sharp pain drilling its way into his head, Din sought out Cara's hand.

He could feel her presence above him, the way she'd covered him from the flames when he was unable to do so himself. She squeezed his hand back, a firm, steady link that kept him from floating into the light-headed vacuum growing in his brain. Head-trauma was never fun, and frankly, he's never had it this bad before.

"Go," Din rasped, his head falling to the other side so he could see her more properly. The look she gives him has him repeating, still weak, but more firmly, " _Go_."

Near the vent, Greef was already up on his feet, gun out, and prepping to leave. He didn't need to be told twice. "We have to go. _Now_."

IG-11 clanked past him to pick up the Child, where it had fallen after keeping the fire from consuming them all. Din's brain still couldn't wrap about the miraculous abilities this child possessed, but as the droid picked up the baby, his heart spiked and he contemplated reaching out for the Child. He always felt better when he held it. It was easier to keep an eye on it, and it was sound assurance that the baby wasn't in danger. At least not without him there to keep it safe.

Instead, he returned his eyes to Cara, "Go," he repeated, pushing her away slightly. She still looked at a lost, her fingers loosely rubbed the blood staining her fingers, obtained when she'd lowered him back against the upturned table. They both knew head injuries were fatal, particularly when blood was involved. The expression she wore was foreign to him and her, if the way her lips had thinned into a grimacing line. Still, she slowly rose to her feet, eyes pinned to him as if she were looking for a way around the situation. Guns couldn't solve this problem, and with the state he was in, he'd only slow them down.

IG-11 stopped next to her, the Child cradled in its mechanical arms. Somewhere in his chest, Din still felt a flare of unease at the sight. The incessant itch he felt whenever he was in the presence of droids, usually encouraging him to grab the nearest weapon, yet oddly, it wasn't as bad this time. Not as hard-hitting or insistent as it was when the droid had first walked into Kuill's hut.

IG-11 _had_ shown up with the child and given them the opening to fight back and rally together. They had a chance now. He could feel the shadow of the hunter the droid used to be, still pressing its imprint into his brain like a foot in mud, but Din could almost say that he _trusted_ IG-11.

Or maybe that was just his brain injury speaking.

The droid looked down at him, it's programming running through circuits and scenarios that Din hadn't the slightest clue how to understand. It was a machine reliant on nothing but programming and wires, designed to hunt and kill. Still, for half a second, he thought the droid was going to hand the baby over to Cara, and do…. _something._ But the moment passed and it turned away slightly.

"We must go," it's the metallic sheen of its voice said, "They are rallying outside."

"Droid," Din said, raising his voice despite the pressure the exertion put on his brain " _IG-11_."

IG-11 looked back down at him, the red dots of its thin head boring into him. He tried not to think of another pair of red, unblinking dots, a large one, with a gun and hostility, and aiming to kill.

"Keep him safe," Din said, and he surprised himself with how weak and tremulous his voice sounded, " _Promise me_ you'll keep the baby safe."

The droid was silent for a few minutes before its head bobbed, almost like a nod, "The baby will be safe under my protection, Mandalorian. You have my promise."

Din nodded, sagging back against the upturned table. He watched silently as the members of his rag-tag coterie made their way toward and into the vent. IG-11 briefly handed the baby over to Cara so it could properly lower itself into the sewer shaft, and in the moments before Cara handed it back, the baby looked over her should, its wide black eyes finding Din. It tilted it's head inquisitively, it's large ears perking, and shifted upward, as if to crawl over Cara's shoulder. There was a bruise on its head, and Din racked his brain in remembrance to _when_ it'd gotten that. Nothing came to mind.

It's little mouth opened and it made a small, perplexed sound that was lost in the high crackling of the fire. Din could tell the Child was still tired from keeping the fire at bay. It's head was droopy and it's eyes lidded. Little fingers curled into the material on Cara's shoulders and the former-shocktrooper glanced down briefly, following the baby's gaze back at Din.

Her jaw set again and that same off-set expression returned – but there was a sad, yet firm, look to it now. An understanding. She'd lost comrades in battle before. She knew how this played out, and when there was nothing more you could do. She looked away grimly, jaw tight, and murmured something to the Child before lowering it to IG-11 and pushing herself down as well.

Din craned his neck to catch a final glimpse of the Child, feeling a splintering ache in his chest when the baby disappeared from view. This would be the last time they'd ever see each other. He liked to hope that it would've been under different circumstances, maybe while handing the Child off to someone who could properly take care of it. Someone who could protect it from the monsters out to use it.

Cara gave him a final nod. A gesture of finality and farewell before she, too, disappeared.

Then it was just him and the crackling flames. The back of his head was an ever-growing sharp, penetrating pain that dug well into his skull and brain – he didn't know if the shot that got him was out of luck or skill, but it was admittedly impressive nonetheless. To get a Mandalorian under the helmet was a feat. He could feel blood running down his neck, a warm sticky sensation he's grown accustomed to over the years.

While he's accumulated injuries of all kinds over the years, this one was different. He could feel it. The way his head pounded, the way he could feel his own energy-sapping, as if running from an open wound. The adrenaline was ebbing, leaving behind nothing but pain and exhaustion to keep him running.

It was hot in there. So hot. Like he was being boiled alive, but even now he would not take off his helmet. He'd once been a terrified child, hiding in a storage bunker as war rained down on his family and village. But he'd been saved from certain death and reborn a Mandalorian – a warrior. And now, he would die a Mandalorian.

Besides, he promised then he'd hold the Imp and his troops off and buy them time.

Grunting, Din steeled himself, his arms slowly rising like rusted gears as he stiffly pushed himself up and used the table to get to his feet. Dizziness and pain ran interference through his head, scrambling his thoughts like radio-static before he managed to smooth it over. When he took a step, he nearly stumbled, only just managing to stay on his feet.

There was movement outside, and through the window, troopers were gearing up and regrouping. Somewhere in the cluster, Moff Gideon was waiting. The cool calculation of his face and the ease of his stature – everything about him suggested he was a force to be reckoned with. Din needed to distract him as long as possible.

He stumbled his way through the fire, the crackling heat greedily singing and licking any exposed skin, leaving him feeling raw and burned. One hand curled into his cowl so it wouldn't catch fire, and with the other he maneuvered through the mess, breathing through the heat and smoke, his only saving grace being the helmet as it kept the fumes from his lungs.

Stormtroopers could be seen through the blown-out door and judging by the frantic turn of the heads and repositioning of their blasters, they'd spotted him too. Din stopped by the doorway, using the wall as cover as he leaned against for a final moment. He withdrew a blaster from his holsters, curling his fingers around the handle steadily, bracing himself for his incoming, and final, fight. At least with a gun in hand, his brain felt a little more clear.

He would fight and die a warrior's death.

 _This is the way_.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed up from the wall and turned into the doorway, the blaster up and shooting the first target he spotted. The first stormtrooper stumbled back, their gun fumbling from their hands as they fell, but his next shot was off and only hit the next stormtrooper in the shoulder.

Red lights flashed in retaliation, and Din turned away from the blaster rays, stumbling back for an ounce of cover when one hit him in the bes'marbu part of his armor. Another hit the hal'cabur, his chest plating, and he stumbled down to one knee, but shot back, willing himself to _focus_ and take as many of these bastards down with them as he could.

A particularly precise shot blasted the gun from his hand, his arm jerked back from the force, and he instantly reached for another, but another shot to the hal'cabur again had him falling back.

He followed the trail of the shot down to the blaster Moff Gideon had in hand. For the second time that day, Din stared down the blaster's barrel, only this time, with no means of defending himself. He was powerless.

With a simple raise of the Imp's hand, the troopers withheld their firing and simply stared on, their blasters locked onto Din and prepared to fire the moment he so much as twitched.

Armed and merciless, Moff Gideon strode forward. He looked as calm and at-ease as he did when he first stepped out of the tidefighter. A cool air of confidence strengthened his stride, born of a lifetime of trials, failures, and successes. The look in his eyes wasn't just that of a hunter, but a man who knew when he had a winning hand. It was a calculating look.

Din reached to a side sheath and pulled out a knife, twisting it in his hands. He didn't wait for the Moff to get to him, the man wasn't his target. If he wasn't going to die in battle, then he _definitely_ wasn't going to die laying on the ground as an easy shot for an _Imp_. One swipe to his jugular and he'd bleed out. He'd die on his own terms, not by the dictation of the Moff.

Only, the moment he lifted the knife, Moff Gideon fired again, shooting the weapon from Din's fingers. The blast was close enough this time to sear his fingers and Din hissed, the skin still sensitive from the earlier heat, just before the Moff's foot slammed down on his arm, pinning it to the ground, and ultimately stopping Din from digging for any more weapons.

The blaster was still poised at him, aimed for the crooks in his armor where he wasn't protected.

Din sucked in a breath and prepared for the next shot. His head was spinning, so light-headed and woozy one would think that the planet had lost its atmosphere. At least he'd bought them time. The rest of the Mandalorian Covert would escort the Child, Cara, and everyone else back to the ship and they'd be fine. They'd be safe.

The Child would be safe and that was all that mattered.

He stared down the blaster, chin up, and waited.

Yet, the Moff stared down at him, the darks of his eyes looking over him in a way that Din would imagine a machine would. Looking deep into his very self, both in body and spirit, pulling out all there was to know about him and laying it out flat. This man already knew his name, the planet he'd been born. He had information no one else did, and to hold such leverage over Din made his fingers itch for his plasma-rifle.

"Just do it already," Din said after a tense minute, glaring up at the Moff intensely enough that he hoped he felt it.

For a long moment, the Imp didn't say anything. The stormtroopers behind them all waited, stone-faced and prepared for a fight, but Din could sense their impatience in the way their feet shifted just so, and the subtle twitch of their fingers. What was the hold-up?

Then, with his other hand, Moff Gideon made a loose gesture and a group of stormtroopers bustled forward, stopping by him back-straight and attentive.

"Bring him," the Moff ordered, still looking down at Din, "See to it that a nurse droid tends to his head wound. I don't want him dead just _yet_."

He pushed off of Din's arms and before the Mandalorian could even sit up, he was being seized by several hands. Moff Gideon stepped back and gestured to another troop, "Check the building," he said, "I want them found."

As they pulled him to his feet, Din felt a flare of panic. He was meant to die, not be captured. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

A pair of cuffs slapped over his wrists out of nowhere and the clarity of the moment hit him. He jabbed the closest trooper in the gut with his elbow, the blow only impacting slightly given the trooper's armor, but it was enough for him to yank his arms away and kick the knee-caps of another. Before he could do anymore damage, more troopers were on him, pushing him back on the ground, pinning him.

The Moff turned away, likely to continued his search for the Child, and in a moment of desperation Din shouted, "You can't! You _won't_ get him!"

Moff Gideon paused and looked over his shoulders, his eyebrow arching unimpressively. "And yet, I'm this close. Tell me, Mandalorian, do you have any idea the prize of which you've captured?"

"He's not a prize," Din said, his head swimming so bad he thought he might throw up, "he's a _child_."

The Moff turned more directly, looking down his nose, with the slightest curve of his lips. He leaned down a little way, staring at his own reflection in Din's visor, "He will be _mine_."


	2. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kill us?" the Armorer questioned, "No, not all of us. But I am the only one that remains here," she started shoveling the pieces of armor into the brazier, "and I cannot help you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor warning for language. That is all. :D

**2\. Escape**

The air was dry for a sewer shaft, but the smell was no less aromatic; it stank of waste and sulfur, strong enough to make the eyes water, but Cara didn't think that was why the baby was whimpering.

Ever since they'd shimmied their way into the sewer shaft, the Child had begun fussing. It started small; a tiny coo here and a tilt of its head there, looking between Cara - who was leading the way down the hall with her light - and IG-11 who was holding it. It even spared glances at Greef, who kept his eyes pinned intently ahead, jaw tight and fist clenched.

Eventually, the Child's fussing got worse until it was whimpering loudly and squirming in IG-11's hold, twisting its body clumsily as if to climb over the droid's shoulders.

"You must settle down," IG-11 attempted to soothe, lifting the baby higher in the air as if to bring it eye-level. "We must not be discovered."

The Child merely blinked at the droid inquisitively, before looking past its head and down the dark tunnel they'd come. A furrowed line appeared between its tiny brows and it made another keening whine, reaching its little hand back toward the tunnel and making a grabbing-motion.

It was clear what it wanted.

Cara looked away, her teeth gritting and her grip on the light getting tighter. Greef made a noise in the back of his throat, and glanced away from the Child, fixing the dishevelment of his shirt with a grimace, as if that might make their whole situation less crappy. IG's robotic eyes looked the Child up and down as if scanning for injuries, before it said, "There was nothing we could do. He has made a sacrifice for us, now we must protect you."

If the Child understood, it didn't let on.

"Come on," Cara muttered, her strides becoming tight, almost furious steps, "We've got to keep moving."

IG-11 refit the Child in its arms and they continued, doing their best to ignore the distant fading clamor of fighting and the small, cooing whines that followed every step of the way. The dull clanking of the IG's steps managed to drown out the noises of battle, but it did little to silence the kid.

They turned a bend, hurried down the corridor, and turned another bend before Cara made a frustrated noise and whipped her head around the interlocking tunnels. "It's a maze down here," she growled, "Do you know where to go?" She asked Greef this.

The man, in turn, shook his head, one arm planted on his hip as he looked over their options, "I don't spend my time gallivanting through the sewers," was his response. "I prefer the company up there," he pointed upward.

"Well, _where_ are we going then?"

"Maybe if we followed the smell of sulfur it could lead us up to the plains where the lava flows. We could find our way back to the ship from there."

"If these tunnels even lead us that far out," Cara scoffed, bouncing the beam of light from wall to wall, "If we leave this close to the town, we'll be spotted before we can take one step to the plains."

"Our best bet would be the assistance of the Mandalorian's," IG-11 added, "We should follow Din Djarin's instructions and find the rest of the covert."

Greef made a frustrated gestured, "Yes, well, that'd be fine and dandy if we _knew_ where we were going," he griped, planting both his hands on his hips this time.

"If I may," the droid said, taking a step in front of them both, "My scanners can look for any hints of recent activity. Also, my sensors are picking up a sound down that," it turned to the left, "corridor. But I am yet unable to determine what the source of these sounds are."

Greef and Cara shared a glance, and Greef threw his hands up in the air, "Why not? It's better than sitting here, waiting to get picked off."

Cara turned to IG-11 and nodded, "Lead the way."

Given the go-ahead, the droid led them down the corridor, following sounds their weaker human ears couldn't detect. The Child continued to fidget and more than once IG-11 had to reposition it in his arms until Greef grumbled under his breath and stuck out his hands.

"Here, just give it to me. Your arms are probably hurting it."

IG-11 turned curtly to him, the long-tube like design of its face looking him over, "This child is under my protection," it stated.

"Yes, yes, I know," Greef said impatiently, "But I don't want to be found by those troopers because the baby wouldn't stop _crying_."

"If the Child is hurt, I will have to kill you," IG-11 added, matter-of-factly.

"I'm aware."

With only a moments hesitation, the droid cautiously handed the Child over and Greef cradled it in his arms. None of them mentioned that it's fidgeting probably hadn't been because of the hardness of IG-11's arms.

Cara swallowed back the nasty taste on her tongue and forced herself not to look back. If she did, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop herself from just throwing it all to hell and going back for Mando herself. She was _this_ close to doing that already; the only thing keeping her where she's at was her promise to keep the Child safe.

They continued on their way, and despite Greef's attempts, the Child didn't settle with him either.

"We are getting close," IG-11 announced after a moment or so of walking and they turned another corner. The tunnels were slowly getting less grimy and more traveled, a testament to those that had used them before. Vaguely, Cara could pick up noises herself – faint and hard to hear if you weren't paying attention, but definitely there.

They turned another yet bend and this time the corridor opened up into a wider tunnel, and they stopped dead in their tracks. The area was cluttered and messy, as if those were had been occupying it had been in a rush to leave. Boxes and cargo were stacked in some areas and upturned sprawled across the floor in others, pieces of technology and weapons were scattered here and there, and in the middle of the floor, a thick pile of armor was settled straight in their path. The metal shone with the familiar glow of beskar, and it didn't take a genius to recognize the design of the helmets.

They had stumbled upon the Mandalorian covert and it was completely abandoned.

For a long moment, none of them moved. It was as if there were stuck in a void, unable to make a sound and unable to break the fragile silence. Then Cara took a cautious step closer and the spell broke. The dull light coming from the few windows that peaked out into the outside world was enough to fill the tunnel with light and Cara clicked her beam off.

"Is this it?" Greef said, swallowing thickly. "What _happened_?"

Cara didn't answer as she slowly approached the armored pile. Bits of armor and weapons stuck out of it, and when she picked up an empty helmet, it weighed heavily in her hand – dead and lifeless. She tried not to think about the person they'd left behind. The man who'd worn a helmet just like this one. She tried not to imagine her friend in this pile of discarded weaponry, left abandoned in the way that they had done him.

She picked up another helmet, this one smaller. She recalled Mando's story of how he'd been recruited into the covert. He'd been a Foundling and had adorned these helmets ever since he was a boy. She wondered if the kid that had worn this helmet had been a Foundling too.

"What happened to the Mandalorian's after they aided Mando?" Cara asked.

Greef shifted on his feet, chin jutting up a little as if trying to recall, "They just…melted away after he went off-world. Disappeared as if they'd never been there. I hadn't… I didn't _think_ anything like this had happened. I don't know…"

"Don't worry," a new voice said, and Cara jumped to her feet. They all drew their weapons as someone stepped out into the tunnel, "It wasn't your fault."

Her tone was smooth and calm, but the blaster she had pointed at them did little to put them at ease. She wore the helmet of a Mandalorian, with little horns adorning the top, and a cowl of thick fur hanging off her shoulders. Her armor was that of the rest of the Mandalorian's and her weapons of similar design.

Cara shifted cautiously in her feet, not quite putting her weapon down. "Are you a Mandalorian?" she demanded. Who knows if someone had wandered down here and stumbled upon the remains of the covert? Maybe as an ambush or a trap to those who might remain.

The woman tilted her head, just a little, as if looking them over too. After a moment she said, "I am."

Cara glanced briefly at Greef, then at IG-11, before dropping her blaster, just a little, so she could grab the necklace Mando had given onto her. She held it up slowly, the light glinting off it, high enough for the woman to see. "We come for assistance," she said, "Din," she hesitated for a split second, swallowing back the guilt, "Din Djarin sent us. He was the one protecting the asset. He sent us down here for help."

She didn't like saying his name. Maybe if the circumstances had been better – after a battle, or maybe over a victory drink. But they'd been given his name through the threats of an Imp so it didn't _count._ Besides, the letters on her tongue left her mouth dry and ashy. When she tried to pin Mando with that name if made her gut wrench sorrowfully.

The woman didn't lower her weapon either, but by the way her posture tensed, Cara deduced that she'd said something right, "Is that so?" she asked, though it didn't sound much like a question. More like an inclination. "And where is Din Djarin now."

"He…he sacrificed himself to protect the Child," Greef answered, gesturing quickly to the bundle in his arms. He swallowed, jaw tight, "He…was shot by the Moff. An injury, just under his helmet. We…we couldn't save him…"

It was hard to tell the reaction of the woman. Her posture didn't change, the grip she had on the blaster didn't tighten or relax, even her voice was the same calm tenor when she said, "That…is most unfortunate." She looked them over once more, before deciding that they weren't much of a threat, and refit the blaster at her side and grabbed the hovering cargo hold that had been set aside with one hand, it stuffed high with bits of metal and armor and pushed it into another room conjoined with the tunnel.

Intrepidly, Cara, Greef, and IG-11 followed her inside, what looked to be, a forgery. She didn't put her back to them and kept watch over blazing brazier at the head of the room, adjusting the tools she had set out, before sorting through the armor pieces. The trio walked in slowly, taking in the large expanse of the room, outfitted with everything a metalsmith would need. She must be some kind of forger, or armorer, for the Mandalorian's; fixing their weapons and crafting their legendary armor.

Only a few moments of silence followed in the wake of Cara's realization before she took a single step toward the woman.

"What happened here?" she asked, and gestured back toward the cluttered tunnel, "Who did this to you?"

The Armorer glanced up briefly, before returning to her task. She was silent for several minutes, and for a moment Cara thought she wasn't going to answer. But then the Armorer said, "We did this to ourselves."

Greef's face twisted in confusion, "What do you mean? Why would you-"

"After you had pinned Din Djarin in town," she interrupted, and Greef winced, "We went to his aid, as I'm sure you remember. We revealed ourselves, and after the shooting was over, we knew we could no longer hide here. We had planned on moving the covert."

"What stopped you?" Cara asked.

"The imperials arrived," was her answer, "and our location was more compromised than it had been before. Since it was a Mandalorian that had stolen the Imps bounty, they were quite inquisitive for his location. When we failed to provide, they turned to other means of talk."

Greef glanced back out at the hall and pointed a horrified finger, "An _Imp_ did that?"

"Kill us?" the Armorer questioned, "No, not all of us. Some may have escaped off-world, and I can only hope that they found a place to lay low. Some of them had willfully chosen to take their helmets off and escape this planet. I am the only one that remains," she started shoveling the pieces of armor into the brazier, "and I cannot help you."

"What?" Greef demanded, his horror and awe drawn to a halt, " _Why_ _not_?"

"I cannot leave this place until I've salvaged every bit of armor," she answered simply, "And with Din's body above, I must fetch his armor as well."

"Why?" Cara inquired.

The woman glanced at her, as if deciding whether she wanted to divulge that information or not. She must've decided there was no harm in telling them – likely because they were going to die anyway, "It is not our way to leave our weapons and technology for others to claim. Our armor is sacred and will return to the covert, as it was meant to." She finished putting several pieces into the brazier and put down the giant tongs she'd been using, "Now, show me the little one who has caused so much ire and destruction."

Greef hesitated for a split second, eyeing IG wearily as if the droid might pull a gun on him, before shifting the baby in his arms and lifting it up for the Armorer to see.

She tilted her head, and possibly recognizing the familiar design of her helmet, the baby cooed and lifted its arms toward her. She didn't indulge it.

"Why is this child hunted like it is? What is special about it, do you know?"

"It…can do amazing thing," Cara said, "It stopped fire from touching us, can lift things with its mind, it –" she swallowed, refraining from rubbing her throat, "It choked me without touching me. It has some kind of…power or something."

That seemed to surprise the woman. She looked at Cara, somehow projecting her sudden attention through her body language, "I know of such things," she said, and Cara made a small noise of disbelief.

"Really? Then what the _hell_ is it?"

"I've heard of such powers that had come from an order of sorcerer's known as the Jedi, who too had fought with the skills you described. The Foundling you've got appears to be force sensitive, which would explain its extraordinary abilities."

"Jedi? Force-sensitive," Greef repeated, rubbing his chin, "I could've sworn I've heard something like that before."

"Do not be surprised," the Armorer said, "Jedi have long-since wiped themselves out. Though there are stories that some still exist, they're appearances vary. However, that is beside the point," she stopped her work to look at them more directly, "Now that Din has passed the mission of this child's safety to you, what do you plan on doing with it?"

A pause throughout the room as Greef, Cara, and IG-11 all regarded each other uncomfortably. Greef hefted the baby in his arms and handed it to IG-11 when the droid beckoned him to do so, as if the question alone had sparked the droids nurse protocols.

"Our mission is to keep the child safe," IG said, "Whatever means necessary."

The Armorer seemed to radiate an aura of _unimpressed_.

"Look," Cara rounded the smelting well, gesturing loosely, "We're not sure what we're doing here. Right now, we just need a way to get off this planet. Do you know how we can get down the plains? If we can get out there fast enough, we can make it back to the ship and get out of here before we're all dead."

The Armorer hummed and silently took out the melted goop of metal from the brazier and poured it into rectangular molds set out nearby. "If you follow the descending tunnel it will lead you to the underground river. It'll take you downstream, toward the lava flats. There is a docked boat that you may take out to the plains."

Greef's eyes traced the air as if mentally followed an invisible trail, and he clapped once, face set in grim victory. "I think I know what you're talking about. But we've got to hurry, that river is commonly known around these parts, and if the Imp is smart, he'll send troops down to watch the river's entrance."

"Well, let's not waste time, then," Cara said, hefting her weapon. Greef took the lead back out into the tunnel and IG-11 followed him, still holding the child. The baby looked over the droid's shoulder, staring at the Armorer with large, sad eyes. It cooed again, reaching out a hand, before disappearing from the room. Cara made to follow but paused, glancing back at the Armorer.

She tapped her finger against her gun once, twice, and turned back to the Mandalorian. "Hey, I uh," she paused, uncertain, "I'm sorry we couldn't save Din. He…he was a really good guy. He didn't deserve to go out like that."

The Armorer didn't look up, "Do we ever deserve to die? We live our entire lives knowing it will happen someday," she picked up her giant molding hammer, "Did he die a warrior's death?"

She thought about him charging the storm-troopers above, taking as many of them down as he could so they could get away. Her thoughts flashed back to his plea, as he lay against the table, weakly grasping her hand, " _Let me die a warrior's death_."

She nodded, "Yes. Yes, he did."

"Then he has died a Mandalorian. That is the way. Now go. The Imperial will not leave these tunnels unsearched for long."

"Will you be okay?"

The Armorer finally looked up at her, "I will be fine. Meanwhile, your allies are almost gone. You should catch up with them."

Cara nodded again, hesitated, wanting to apologize one more time, before turning and running into the tunnel, stepping over leftover boxes and pieces of armor, and coming up behind IG-11 just as they turned the bend. The metal clangs of the Armorer as she hammered the soft mounds of metal followed them.

They walked in the silent darkness for a while, their only light being Cara's flashlight and IG-11's red eyes. Greef was up ahead, leading the way.

He spoke so softly, she almost didn't hear it, "I didn't think it had gotten so bad for them."

"The Mandalorian's?" IG-11 asked.

"Yeah. I mean, they disappeared so quickly after the fight and we hadn't heard from them since. I had no idea that the Imp had gotten to them."

"It's probably good that Mand – that Din didn't have to see that then," Cara murmured, "He probably wouldn't have taken it well." To be honest, she wasn't sure _how_ he would've reacted. But he said he was saved by the covert and sworn into the creed ever since he was a child – they were his family and his home, and Cara understood what it was like to lose that.

If Din had to die, she was glad he didn't have to perish knowing most of his covert was gone too. The certainty in his voice when he said they'd help them escape, there was hope in it. He died believing he was giving them the chance they needed to get the baby to safety. She would honor that dying hope, even if it meant killing herself in the process.

With a sudden start, she looked back down at her hand where the Mandalorian sigil was still clutched between her fingers. She completely forgot to give it to the Armorer. She looked over her shoulder, rubbing her fingers against the fine craftsmanship of the metal. Despite how much she wanted to, she couldn't just run back – it was too late for that. Besides, with every second she took, that was a second taken from their escape.

The chances of her running into the Armorer again was laughable, but until she came upon another Mandalorian, she'd keep it safe till it was returned to its proper owners. She pocketed the sigil again, feeling as though the metal was burning a hole through her pocket.

Greef led them through the tunnels, and the farther in they went, the hotter it got. The darkness took on a red hue and heat shimmered in the air as they turned a corner and the tunnel widened. A large, bubbling river of magma ran slowly in front of them, and just looking at it made the heat seem 5x worse. Near the side, a dark boat - carved out of the same material used as banks to the magma river – was docked at the side. It looked old and unused, but it wasn't burned through, so that meant it was still useable.

Greef handed the baby to IG-11 to push against the boat.

"It's stuck," he strained through gritted teeth.

While the boat itself was whole, through – what was probably years – of abandonment, the side of the boat had fused itself to the rocky dock it was parked by. She crouched next to Greef and pushed with him, but it didn't even budge. With a noise of exasperation, Cara straightened and swung her gun over her shoulder, bracing it in both hands.

"Move," she said and Greef stumbled back as she blasted at the rocky dock, shooting a clear line from each end. With a subtle crack and a tilt, the boat broke free from the dock and began a lazy descent down the magma river.

"C'mon!" She said, holding the side as Greef stepped inside, grabbing the baby from IG-11 again so the droid could follow, and when they were all in she hopped in too. Just as she was settling on one of the dark seats, there was a roused whirr and a beep as the old ferry droid shoved at boats end rose from the mounds of trash and rock build-up, pulling its long oar up, braced in its long thin arms. It beeped at them.

Cara glanced at IG-11, "Do you know what it's saying?"

"It is asking where we would like to go," IG answered.

Greef turned to it, "Down to the plains and _step_ on it."

It beeped again and dipped the oar into the lava, steering them toward a tunnel exit some ways ahead. They weren't out of the warzone just yet but being so close to the plains made Cara's body jittery with nerves. It was the same feeling she and all the other jumpers got just before landing into a battle. Her heart jumped and her blood seemed to crackle in agitation.

They were so _close_.

"Do you think the Imp will have anyone waiting for us out there?" She nodded toward the exit.

Greef paused, letting the thought sink in as he evaluated it. "I'm…not sure," he settled with a frown, "These lava streams are well known throughout town, so if he gets anyone talking they'd probably tell him. If he's as smart as he thinks he is, he'll probably send a few down here _just in case_."

That wasn't good.

"If they catch us in a position like this, we don't stand a chance," she said, checking over her gun to see how much more ammunition it had. She was almost empty. Just a few more good shots and there'd be little use of the gun. Greef was checking his guns too. Sweat clung to them like a second layer of clothing. Her fingers were slippery over the metal and she had to wipe sweat from her eyes. The boat was specially designed to keep most of the heat out, but they were still surrounded by a whole lot of lava – it was bound to have some effect.

"I can go ahead and check our path," IG-11 said, holding the baby out to Cara.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Greef demanded, finishing his check-up with his weaponry. Judging by his glower, Cara suspected that it wasn't very good for him either.

"I am crafted out of a high-density metal with a high melting point. I will be able to walk ahead and check to see that our path is clear of threats."

"And will you do if there _is_ someone out there?' Cara asked.

"I will undergo my original programming."

"…and that is?"

"My programming dictates that I will not be captured. I will undergo my self-destruct sequence in the circumstances that troopers are waiting outside. It will deal with the threat and give you all the opportunity to escape."

Greef gave the droid a pointed look, "But that will _kill_ you."

"It cannot kill me for I am not alive," IG answered simply. "Take the child so I may go on ahead."

Cara hesitated for the briefest second. Droid or not, they'd all gotten somewhat attached to him. It might've been because he'd come to their rescue when they were pinned down, but Cara didn't exactly want to see it blow itself up. But she couldn't see any other alternative. She took the kid.

The Child had gone silent in the heat, but it looked up at her with a small coo. The sooner they got it out of the heat, the better. She nodded to IG-11 and it turned and stepped out of the boat. Even with the R-2 droid steering, IG easily out-paced them. Greef and Cara shared a glance, fingers ghosting over their weapons.

Sometime later, IG stepped out into the light of day and looked to either side. It was a quiet, tense moment, the world hanging on by a breath before IG turned. "The exit is clear. However, my sensors indicate that a platoon of troopers are on their way down as we speak. It is best that we make a speedy escape."

Cara let go of the breath she was holding. At least they hadn't been _waiting_ for them. If they'd been flanking the mouth of the tunnel, they probably wouldn't have made it out alive.

The boat lazily drifted out of the tunnel and when they were close enough to the banks, they collectively hopped out. The droid beeped, watching them go, before jerking around to peddle it's way back to the dock. As IG stepped out of the lava flow, it stumbled slightly, the metal of its legs a bright red color that emulated steam. However strong that metal was, it was lucky it hadn't melted down to its wire.

"How are your legs?" Cara asked anyway.

"The joints are stiff, and my neural-wiring is over-heated, but I shall be fine." It said and held out its hands. Cara returned the Child to its care.

Greef peered over the large black rocks crusting the bank of the stream, "How far off are those troopers?"

IG paused as it scanned again, "Just over the ridge," it answered.

Cara cradled her gun, looking around the large, barren wasteland. The only cover they had for a mile, at least, were the rocks by the bank. The rising hills and rocky fixtures just outside the plains were too far away to get there on foot if they planned on going unseen. She shielded her eyes with her hands as if hoping that'd uncover a secret hiding place she might not have noticed before.

"We've got to do something, or we're done for," Greef said, acting as their look-out with his eyes fixed on the ridge. He glanced over them and his eyes flittered back to the Child. "Hey, do you think it could do the hand thing again?" he made a wavy gestured to the baby, "C'mon buddy, do the hand thing again."

The baby cocked its head and imitated his gesture as a wobbly wave. Greef sighed and dropped his hand, a defeated sag in his shoulders. "Well, I'm out of ideas."

Cara gritted her teeth, looking around more forcefully. They did not just shoot their way out of an Imp's mercy, lose Mando, and hitch a ride down a lava stream _just_ to give up so close to freedom. She glanced up at the ridge that the troopers would climb over in a matter of minutes. They didn't look like they were _that_ far from town, but the troopers had gotten there pretty damn fast if they were going on foot.

"They might have speeders up there," Cara said, nodding toward the ridge. "If we can circle around the platoon, maybe we can come up behind them and commandeer a few."

"Chances of success are low," IG-11 commented, following her gaze.

"Fuck it, we're out of other options," Greef said, already climbing up the rocks. "There's a cluster of boulders right over there. We can hide behind them till we can sneak past."

Despite its calculations, IG-11 followed them without complaint, and they were just ducking behind the large rocks as the first white-helmet appeared over the ridge. They crouched low to the black sand, listening as the pounding of feet and scraping of armor descended past them.

"You sure they're coming out this way?" One asked.

"I don't know, but Moff Gideon wants a platoon down here just in case. They'll call us back if they're spotted anywhere else."

Cara peaked past the boulder, watching as the troopers all aligned themselves at the cave mouth, waiting for a boat that wouldn't come. She glanced back up the ridge and pulled herself back.

"We'll be too exposed if we try to climb them now," she whispered, "They'll spot us the second we try."

"We need a distraction," Greef murmured.

They both glanced at the boulder. "Think we can move it?" Cara asked, already bracing her hands on its sides.

"Maybe if you put your back into it," Greef responded, pushing with her. IG watched their silent struggling for a few moments before it put a hand to the rock as well and added its own two cents.

"On the count of the three," Cara whispered. "1…2…3!" They pushed. For a horrifying moment, it didn't budge. A hard, driving spike of panic hit her when a voice said, "Hey, who's over there," and the sound of feet on gravel stomped towards them.

Cara cursed and pushed her entire weight into it and the boulder finally gave away. She didn't even wait for it to finish falling as she grabbed Greef and IG by the arms and pulled them up, "C'mon!"

The boulder crashed at their back, bringing a wave of loose rocks and other boulders with it, right over the platoon. Shots followed them, followed by grunts and yelps, and even a scream and a hissing splash as someone fell into the magma stream. "Keep going, keep going, keep going," she muttered to the other two, but it was just as much for herself as it was for them.

Shots followed at their heels and one barely missed her cheek as she pulled herself over the ridge. Not even allowing themselves a moment to breathe, they sprinted across the hard ground. Cara smiled, just briefly, when she saw the parked speeders and Greef gave a whoop.

"IG, you go first," Cara instructed, swinging her legs over one of the bikes. "Get the baby to the ship as fast as you can. Karga and I will flank you and keep any troops off your back."

"This plan is pleasing," IG affirmed, starting its own bike up. The baby cradled in one arm and the other gripped the handlebars. "Let us go."

Greef sighed, but nodded, "Yeah, yeah, we got your back," but under his breathe he added, "What's the point of an IG unit if _we're_ protecting _it_."

Noises and clamors came from the lava bank and white helmets popped above the ridge, blasters raised as they shouted a command to halt. IG hit the gas and was zooming across the ground in a matter of seconds, kicking up dust as it went. Cara paused to kick over the rest of the speeders, so they were at _least_ in a tangled mess before she and Greef punched the gas well and set off in pursuit after them.

To be honest, she didn't know this planet very well, other than what Mando had briefed her on, and she wasn't sure what the right direction to the ship would be, but IG seemed confident in its navigations and Greef knew the land, so she trusted their instincts to get them out of there.

They sped across the ground at break-neck speed, the dark rocks and steam zipping past them like smears against the horizon. Cara glanced over her shoulder once they'd gotten a good distance, and sure enough, the troopers had sorted out the remaining speeders and were in hot pursuit. The flash of their blasters had her veering to the side to avoid it. Greef shot a glance over his back to and said something in the wind, Cara assumed it was another curse.

She made a quick parting gesture she hoped Greef understood and grabbed the handlebars and veered sharply to the left. Going in a wide arch, she circled back so she was heading straight toward the platoon and began firing on them using the gun fused to the underside of the speeder. It wasn't' a powerful gun – the bike was meant for speed and surprise, and the bulk of a stronger gun would've taken up too much room. But the blast was enough to kick up dirt for decent cover and a particularly good shot even caught the engine of the bike – both the speeder and the trooper riding it went down.

Greef was on their other side, mirroring her actions, so she knew he understood her gesture after all. The troopers scattered under the assault, and when it became too much of a hassle firing on the remaining riders, they turned and continued after IG, gunning the throttles _hard._

A shot from behind nicked the side of Cara's speeder and one shot grazed Greef's thigh and she heard him cursing high and bloody again. They were too open and exposed to have people riding on their backs like this. Thankfully, only a moment later they were speeding above the small, rocky hills and twisting behind the larger boulders that piled on the ground as they left the lava plains behind. She recognized this layout a little more, so she figured they were getting close to the ship.

She was _praying_ they were getting close to the ship.

IG-11 and the child had made substantial ground on them and more than once she lost them behind a rock or hill. Greef was confident in his driving though, so Cara followed him. The sooner IG got to the ship the better. As long as they Child got out of there safely, then there was nothing more to worry about. Other than death and capture of course, but Cara would throw herself into the closest lava pit before she let them drag her back to the Moff.

They turned another rock bend and gradually the ground leveled out into another plain, and there, just a small distance away, was the Razor Crest. IG was already coming to a stop next to it and clanking up the ship's ramp with the baby in its arms.

Just as she was beginning to feel the tiniest spark of hope, a blast caught the underside of her speeder and suddenly she was falling; rolling across the hard ground as her bike spun and crashed not far from her. She managed to roll with the fall the best she could, and protected her head with her arms, but by the time she was coming to a stop, her mouth was dry and dirty with black sand and her shoulder pulsed where it had taken the brunt of the fall. She did a brief report on her body – cuts and scrapes across her arms and face, bruises likely _everywhere_ , a bump to her head, her shoulder was probably dislocated, and she'd bitten her lip too.

Not the worst she'd walked away from.

Grunting, she hobbled to her feet. The troopers were fast approaching, and their guns weren't letting up. She was just lucky they were terrible shots.

Miraculously, she found Greef at her side, swinging her arm over his shoulders as they hurried toward the ship. They were so close; the ramp was just 8 feet away. She could hear its powerful hum as the engine started and the whirring of the propellers as they fired up.

Greef shouted and stumbled, and they both almost fell to their knees. Cara glanced back at his leg, which had been shot by one of the troopers. She hefted him up with her good shoulder, and they both, with steely eyes and gritted teeth, hobbled toward the ramp.

"Halt!" one of the troopers demanded. When had they gotten so close?

Cara was certain they were gonna shoot again when the Razor Crest shuddered and there was a click as two big guns emerged out of the ship's sides, pointed down toward the troopers, and mercilessly began blasting them with heavy artillery. Cara and Greef hurried up the ramp as the platoon was demolished behind them, watching the destruction incredulously as the ramp slowly closed behind them.

They sat panting on the cargo-hold floor for several seconds, listening to the firing of the guns until they inevitably stopped and returned within the ship, the threat taken care of. The ship hummed louder and wobbled slightly as it began to rise.

Cara wiped her bleeding lips with the back of her hands before pulling herself up with the wall and found the ladder that led up to the cockpit. She pulled herself up, gritting past the sharp ache of her dislocated shoulder until she was crawling out of the opening and hobbling into the cockpit.

IG-11 was at the ship's controls and was steering them off the ground and toward the atmosphere. The Child was back in its makeshift seat, peering sadly over the sides, its ears drooped, with a perplexed look on its face. The kid probably had no idea what was going on.

Cara sighed and trudged toward IG-11. "Good job with the ship's gun," she said, sliding down the wall to sit, leaning her head back as she finally allowed herself to calm down and breathe.

"That wasn't me," IG-11 responded without turning around, "That was the defense programming of the ship. After Kuiil was terminated, I had put the ship into lockdown in the case that someone tried to sneak onboard in my absence. It was just fulfilling its base programming."

Cara's heart fell at the mention of Kuiil. She'd forgotten that he'd been killed on his way to bring the Child to the ship. She had probably passed his body outside, around the time she'd fallen, and hadn't even noticed at all.

Had they gotten him like they'd almost gotten her? Shot him to the ground, and once more for good measure, before riding back to their base. Neither she nor Greef even had the chance to bury him before entering the ship. He didn't get to honored like the fallen soldier he was, and his body would be left to rot with their fallen enemies - the people he'd been forced to serve for so many years.

She closed her eyes, doing her best to swallow back the guilt. It was an emotion she was familiar with; the same taste on her tongue when she made it out of a battle and most of her comrades didn't. Survivors guilt, they'd called it. She couldn't imagine why anyone would feel guilty over living for another day, and yet…

The Child made a soft whining noise that melded perfectly with the emotions battling in her chest. Its big eyes were watering as they began to breach the atmosphere and she wondered if it truly understood that they were leaving Mando behind. It may be 50 years old, but it was still a baby.

Cara tried not to think about how they were flying over the town, where somewhere below, Mando's body lay. Left there, like Kuiil, for the scavengers to find. Two people who had sacrificed their lives for the safety and well-being of one tiny creature. Who had believed in their cause so much that they had put themselves at deaths doorstep?

They breached the atmosphere and an expanse of glittering stars shimmered around them. IG fiddled with the controls and announced that they would be going into hyper-space momentarily.

Cara wiped away more of the gathering blood on her chin but couldn't bring herself to do much more. Greef had climbed up the ladder as well, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes downcast. They were all in bad shape – beaten, bloody, and barely making it out alive. Where they were going from here, Cara wasn't sure. As long as it wasn't this planet, she didn't care.

Bright streaks of blue illuminated the space, bathing their silence in glorious light as they jumped into hyperspace, leaving the Imp infested planet, and all those on it, behind.

The baby began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all: It's okay if you don't know Star Wars, we won't judge you for it.
> 
> Me *crying*: But I don't knooooow anythiiiiiiing D:
> 
> But seriously, thanks so much for the support guys. I can't promise that chapters will come out fast, because as supportive as you all are, my writing just LOVES to include all the small details and if I don't know the names of such detail, my brain defaults and breaks. LOL, but I don't intend to give up on this fic.
> 
> Thanks for all the amazing comments last chapter! :D Hope you guys enjoyed this one! We'll probably be alternating between their POV's and Din's. Because we've gotta know what the whole fam is up to.
> 
> See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> *cue intense flute music*
> 
> Okay, I'll be straight with you guys. I know little to nothing about Star Wars. Like, I've watched them when I was younger, and I've only seen a little bit of the newer triology, but I am in LOVE with the Mandalorian and I couldn't stop myself from writing for the show. I waited till episode 8 though so I could have as much information from the series as I could get, so here I am!
> 
> After watching the final episode, I couldn't help by think to myself "but what if IG-11 HADN'T stayed with Mando and was captured by Moff Gideon." Thus, this story was born.
> 
> I'll be honest, I'm still not sure where this is heading. I just wanted some Mandalorian whump. That's all. So we'll see where this goes XD


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